


Appetence

by Chiapet



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence - Revenge of the Sith, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Senator Anakin Skywalker, Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Sith Shenanigans, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 05:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10892754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiapet/pseuds/Chiapet
Summary: Anakin Skywalker is a cloaked force-sensitive working in the Senate as the new Coruscant representative under Palpatine’s guidance. Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Senator shortly returned from a leave of absence, can’t stand him, with Senator Skywalker’s reputation being that of a morally grey, pleasure seeking, bribe taking scoundrel. When the threat of the Sith becomes evident in the galaxy, Senator Kenobi sets to researching. He soon finds himself put on senatorial assignments with Anakin Skywalker.





	1. Prologue

Senator Obi-Wan Kenobi sat still in the pod. The chamber rang eerily quiet, every small sound echoing throughout the vast room. His pod creaked, swaying from his weight. His hands clasped tight together on his lap, his hood pulled up over his head. Everything was still. Anyone at a distance could tell it was him; the senatorial pod gave it away. But no one was here. The Senate wasn’t meeting, the workers weren’t cleaning, and the dead of the night had overtook Coruscant.

Below, in the Underworld, the nightlife thrived, leeching off of drunk patrons, shady dealers, and corrupt politicians with a secret identity. Crimes ran rampant and spice ran free, and what was the point of saving the Republic when it was rotting from the inside out? What was the point of working for _this_ , fighting for this already corroding system, a system that would crumble in its own rot sooner rather than later?

The eerie silence echoed throughout the chamber, and Obi-Wan looked out into the darkness that was waiting and threatening to suck him in again. He was alone. _That’s the whole point._ Engulfed in a whole lot of alone to distract himself yet somehow remain focused on the fact that his life’s work was as much of a scam as the slythmonger dealing out deathsticks down in an Underworld bar.

But matters other than drug dealers concerned Obi-Wan tonight.

He imagined angry yellow eyes staring down at him. He told himself the flash of guilt wasn’t real. _Nothing_ had been real, so why would that be? Power, dark power, and the deception it had wrought on Obi-Wan were all that remained corporeal enough to leave him shaken and torn, yet somehow still moving on..

His hands shook now, his shoulders carried too much tension, too much weight. Obi-Wan normally proved himself to be a composed, logical man. He’d lived a lifetime of rationality and keeping as tight of a reign as he could on his temper. But this? He’d been sucked into this faster than he could say no.

He couldn’t say no - no one could, not to a Sith. Not when you were a mere senator, unaccustomed to that power the Jedi so freely wielded. He had been set up perfectly, had been trapped in an embrace, and had been so thrilled in the seduction that he had been oblivious to the scheme. All it had taken was that crooked smile, tanned legs tangled in his own, sweet nothings that had turned out to be exactly that. And then it had all come to a disastrous conclusion with Anakin Skywalker at the helm of the wreckage.

_But that’s what happens when you fall in love with a Sith Lord._


	2. Skywalker

“ . . .  the negotiations taking place on Coruscant between the Gaulus and Ehosiq sectors.” Obi-Wan caught the last part of Senator Mothma’s sentence, jerking himself out of his reverie. Mon looked at him expectantly, and he sighed, rubbing at his beard.

“Sorry, what was that?” Obi-Wan asked. Mon began to repeat her report, but Obi-Wan stopped her with a hand held up. “A rhetorical question, I really didn’t want to know. Sorry, Mon, but we’re supposed to be on break. We’ve just endured three hours of Burtoni, Clovis, Aang, and Deechi. I don’t think I can take anymore at the moment. I have to  _ eat _ something, I didn’t have breakfast.” Right now he nibbled furiously away at his cherished Jogan fruit.

He received an affronted look. He rubbed at his temples. 

“What do you think ... of the new Senator?” he asked.

“For Coruscant?” Mon asked, tilting her head to the side. Obi-Wan nodded. “Well . . . he certainly makes a name for himself. Even as a junior legislator, he had a reputation for unsavory things,” she hesitated on the last word. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently I’m out of the loop.”

“That’s what you get for a vacation year off-planet. Lorana didn’t really live up to your standards as a representative, did she?”

“Force, I tried,” Obi-Wan frowned. “I worked with her. It was the confidence, or the lack of, that revealed itself to the problem with her. She lived in her older brother’s unfriendly shadow most of her life.”

“Send her to me. I have a way of seeing the spark of potential in future politicians.”

“I know that all too well,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ll see if she’s interested,” he agreed. It had been awhile since he’d been in contact with the young legislator. He paused as he saw the familiar figure of Chancellor Palpatine swoop past, with the new senator at his heels. Like an axehound following its master. “What was his name again?”

“Anakin Skywalker. Born on Tatooine, raised in Coruscant by adoptive parents, the Tarkins, military family, you may have heard of them. Child prodigy. Well-known for mechanical skills, arrogance, and a tendency to be dramatic while somehow making you feel like you need to protect him from everything,” Padmé answered from behind him. Obi-Wan hadn’t heard her walk up at all; Senator Amidala had a way of popping up where you least expected her.

“You’re not a fan?” he asked wryly. Padmé shrugged, sitting down across from him and next to Mon.

“Let’s just say there were a few . . . words exchanged between us in the past year,” she said, sharing a look with Mon. Obi-Wan decided he didn’t want to know. It sounded like she had enough of an experience with Skywalker already.

“That sounds like someone I’ll actively avoid, then. While you’ll choose to pick out every fight - er, debate, I’m sure.”

“There’s nothing wrong with debating,” Padmé defended herself. “I could remind you it’s preferable to your version of aggressive negotiations.”

“Either one makes you age twice as fast,” Mon added, earning a delightful chuckle from Padmé. Obi-Wan smiled.

“So . . . is he Palpatine’s pet?” he finally asked the question that had been lingering on his mind since he’d first heard about the new senator.

“Closer than Mas Amedda,” Mon answered. “Close with others as well, however. Certain others that we don’t see eye to eye with.” Obi-Wan frowned. A sticky situation, then. He might very well find himself talking to Skywalker after all, for curiosity’s sake. The young senator seemed very out of place. What he had found while ‘on leave’ had been more than just rest and relaxation, but the only other person who knew about that was Bail Organa.

“I think I’ve been away for far too long.”

“I would agree,” Padmé nodded her head. “We’ve needed you here, Obi-Wan. Did you really need that long of a vacation?”

“Are you judging my work ethic?”

“More questioning your sense of opportune time. That wasn’t one of them,” she added quietly.

“I didn’t know things had gone that bad, you have my apologies,” he said sincerely. He would have told her what he had really been doing, but that secret was to be kept under lock and key. It was information for only Bail Organa’s ears.

Padmé gave him a soft nod, and Obi-Wan smiled at her understanding. She had secrets of her own, more than plenty if she was a part of what Obi-Wan suspected.

“Now, who wants to give me a complete update on the important things?”

* * *

Anakin sighed as he stepped inside of his apartment. It was nice not to hear the sound of anyone asking him where he’d been. Adulthood gave him more privacy than he’d ever imagined, especially now that he was away from the foster family who had raised him. The Tarkins were strict, vicious, and had no love to offer a scared slave boy who had been taken from his mother on a promise of a better life. The moment Anakin set foot on Coruscant, he was on his own. Alone. It had been a life without the love of his mother, something the Tatooine child would have traded galaxies for, but couldn’t. A life without validation or praise unless someone wanted something from him. And they always did.

Anakin had no love for the Tarkins, either. He no longer associated with them. He had refused to take their last name. It would always be Skywalker … or the other his master had assigned him. His loyalty was to Palpatine, above all. He was created to obey. Anakin Skywalker could not live completely on his own, could not live without a master, so he bent knee out of habit to Palpatine and let someone else make the decisions for him. It was less stressful that way, and caused less pain for him in the end. He bent to what he perceived to be the easy way. The shame of it made him heavy with guilt in conflict, but at the end of the day, he knew he was a coward. A coward who was still the scared little boy who wanted to run into his mother’s arms.

The warmth of his senatorial apartment made him want to immediately be back in the sun, maybe somewhere on a tropical planet, or like the hot springs on Carosi as he had during the healing after the incident.

He frowned, let his cloak fall to the ground in front of the door, kicked off his boots, and landed on the couch, his transparisteel view of Coruscant magnificent. He didn’t care. He was tired. It had been a long day of more introductions to Senators he’d never met, of posturing and flirting and being someone he wasn’t, all in an effort to build up a false reputation in mimicry of his master. His back ached, his neck was sore, and yes, he could do with that nice hot long soak in a Carosi hot spring right about now.

Tuning himself into the Force, he let it take him and calm his mind somewhat. Holding it within his grasp muted the tiredness, the pains and aches throughout his body, until his personal satisfaction with it deemed he could manage.. The Force burned hot and raw inside him, a fire that never went out, a flame he could never ignore or smother. It flowed red and angry and filled him with the promise of vengeance on everything and everyone who had wronged him. He’d get it, someday.

It was almost instantly that he fell asleep, and was soon enough caught in the grip of another nightmare that plagued him, courtesy of his master.

* * *

A bright early morning sun shone through the traffic lanes of Coruscant, glinting off speeders shined perfect, and reflective sentients commuting to work. Obi-Wan, more reserved about how he spent his money, possessed a speederbike, less flashy than compared to the common sort of transportation a Republic senator owned. His hair flew back from his face in the wind. He had to admit that  _ sometimes _ a rush coursed through him, but he wasn’t fond of flying. Certain turns made his stomach lurch and his vision curve. 

The nonsensical hour of the senate meeting, as he again missed breakfast. Yet here he was, doing his duties, after being informed of it by one of the senatorial apartments’ standard protocol droids. A personal one would be assigned to him again once they reprogrammed it.

He arrived at the landing platform space reserved for him with not a minute to spare, still looking collected. 

He strode inside. His posture remained perfect, and his eyes upwards, as always. Politicians were beasts; they attacked any weakness they sensed on the opposing side. Obi-Wan never gave them the chance to find a speck of that weakness within himself.

His pod was solely his. Stewjon had collectively decided decades ago that they had only needed one representative from their sector. They  _ were _ supposed to have a junior legislator as well, but were in the process of finding a new one after Lorana had jumped ship, something Obi-Wan had and still blamed himself for. He liked working alone anyway. Alone was better for him, it must be, since that was the perpetual state the senator remained in. Alone was safe.

Chancellor Palpatine droned on, a voice Obi-Wan could easily fall asleep to out of pure boredom. Wrapping his cloak more tightly around him, Obi-Wan sat down in the front of the polished pod and leaned back, making himself comfortable. The serving droid who offered caf was waved off. “I’m breaking myself of that habit,” he muttered, and the droid disappeared. Within five minutes he had himself properly snugged within his tremendously comfortable cloak, and was debating whether or not anyone would notice him dozing off while his datapad recorded the session for later review.

“What did you discover?”

Obi-Wan nearly jumped out of his seat from the force of his heart leaping within his chest. He turned around to meet the intense yet friendly dark eyes of Senator Bail Organa, accompanied by honey skin and a warm but somewhat tense smile. His features were mostly hidden by a raised cloak hood, enough so that none of the other politicians on the pods would be able to recognize him. But they looked just as stunning as well. As Obi-Wan’s mentor throughout his career, he held Bail in great respect. His crush that had never quite ended contributed to that as well, though Obi-Wan accepted it now for what it was. It made it less embarrassing, at least. He cringed remembering the awkward and blushing nineteen year old junior legislator gushing over the older Alderaanian prince.

He quickly turned, facing forwards again, as if he’d merely given a polite greeting to Bail, before he got caught up in those memories and gave their operation away.

“Too much. Not enough. Nothing that I can tell you here, in any case,” he muttered. Bail shifted behind him.

“I assumed as much. I have a gift for you. Please be discreet.”

“I always am,” Obi-Wan said, knowing a datachip would make its way to him at the end of their conversation. He could feel Bail’s eyes on him, speculating on that comment. It gave Obi-Wan the feeling that Bail thought very much the opposite. Obi-Wan cleared his throat, and focused more on the session, as Senator Skywalker’s pod came to the foreground, along with the beginning of a flowery speech that most of the senate were already hooked on. 

“Thoughts on this new senator?” he asked. He liked to thoroughly know who he was dealing with, and this senator seemed to be important, with such power thrust on him at a young age, much like had been the case with Padmé. But he knew Padmé’s motives. Both Padmé’s and Bail’s opinions were vastly important to him.

“Skywalker? Nothing to be worried about, as far as I can tell. He’s too green for any in depth scheming, and hopefully his . . . lack of discretion will have him outvoted or impeached soon enough.”

“Not if his admirers have anything to say about it.”

“Are you one of them?”

“No,” Obi-Wan snapped at him, then regained his decorum with a stiff posture. “I just find him to be somewhat of an annoyance. A fly crawling up the back of my neck.”

“Then I hope you’re not skittish about insects. I need you focused, Obi-Wan, I fear we’re all in great danger, not just the Jedi. Have you been in close contact with Skywalker?”

“No, we’ve never met.”

“But he’s  _ such _ an annoyance,” Bail deadpanned.

“I know arrogance when I see it, and I don’t like it.” Bail muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘Satine’, which Obi-Wan forced himself to ignore, instead focusing the topic back on the Jedi.

“If you’re so worried about the Order, why don’t you talk to them?” he asked.

“It’s not that easy. Jedi are like different creatures, they speak a different language. I don’t have any ties with them.”

“Then find someone who does?” Obi-Wan suggested gently. “Duchess Kryze has contacts, as does Senator Amidala. Both with a Master Qui-Gon Jinn, oddly enough. It’s not as if we’re dealing with a Wookiee here. They speak Basic. Well, most of them, I assume. Unless there’s some secret Jedi messaging system I’m unaware of.”

“Who knows, with the way they closet themselves? Master Jinn isn’t in the Council, nor is he close with them. There are whispers he’s a Gray Jedi.”

“One Jedi is the same as the other to me. Green, Gray, what’s the difference?” Obi-Wan said, annoyed by all this side-stepping and diplomacy. Couldn’t anyone see nothing was going to get done that way?

“I suppose there’s a vast difference with being the traditional celibate Jedi and a sexually liberated Green.” He could hear the smile in Bail’s voice.

“Then we all know which one you’d be,” Obi-Wan commented.

Both of the senators paused as Skywalker came to the climax of his speech, and Obi-Wan was thrown off for a moment by the intensity in the young man’s words and the fire in his eyes. Eyes that may have met his from across the floor, but he wasn’t certain. It made him feel strange, almost as if something incorporeal touched him, his soul. A hollow feeling.

“I motion to strengthen our reinforcement of the anti-slavery act within the Republic, and those planets outside of the Republic who trade with us.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up once more. He’d caught snippets about slavery in the speech while he and Bail talked, but he had assumed it was some motion or another to approve it. He could certainly get on board with this, instead. It seemed others Obi-Wan hadn’t expected were swayed by Skywalker’s argument, as even the most unlikely sentients stood and clapped and seconded the motions, hands waving, tentacles coiling, and various antennae flicking in agreement. And then the boos from the regular distasteful crowd, particularly from sectors in the Outer Rim. Bail and Obi-Wan added to the applause, though Obi-Wan felt an ulterior motive lurked behind it all. He made it a policy to never trust anyone.

“Surprising,” said Bail as the crowd settled down, the chancellor’s smile polished and fake, a beacon among all the others. Something was brewing, and Obi-Wan didn’t know what it was. 

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You have a bad feeling about everything, Obi-Wan. You were born to be pessimistic,” Bail replied. Obi-Wan grunted in response, but took no offence at the observation; it was true enough. Besides, Bail was one of his closest friends, and he got by with more than most did.

“How fares the queen? Still putting up with your bluntness?” Obi-Wan asked. He could sense Bail’s wry smile without looking.

“Less of it in the past few months. The Senate has been busy, and Alderaan has needed their queen more than I.” There was a hint of sadness in Bail’s voice that only someone close to him could detect. Obi-Wan almost felt sorry for asking, but also he didn’t. He supposed he was that much of an unapologetic asshole.

Now more senators proposed their own political pieces, and Obi-Wan felt something being slipped into his cloak pocket. A datachip of some sort. He gave a nod and soon enough felt Bail’s presence leave, and he sighed. That particular presence stood fast as a comfort to him throughout the years, and it was always a bit sad when he left. A longer conversation would have been nice, but there was work to be done, and this work was too important to expose due to friendship.

As a Neimoidian said his part, Obi-Wan struggled to keep his eyes open again. The mystery that was Skywalker was done speaking, and his attention directed itself elsewhere. He still had a bad feeling about all of it. He’d have to take a look further.

* * *

Anakin eyed the bottom of Palpatine’s cloak as it brushed against the carpeted floors of the Senate buildings. With Palpatine present, Anakin’s gaze remained downwards, his head bowed in submission. As Palpatine had told him it always should be. That was how it played out; Anakin the apprentice; Palpatine the master. As a slave to their owner.

He could feel it eating at him again, the darkness. It often tried to consume him, and after using it on the group of senators throughout the hall, and around his pod especially, it was hungry. The shadow always wanted more after a taste. The dragon begged for satisfaction in its violent desires. Anakin had never found the balance, and he knew his master certainly hadn’t. His master feasted on the dark, a predator to a force that Anakin fled from. The very predator Palpatine wanted him to be, but was too weak to become or to control.

He didn’t notice they were in the Chancellor’s office until the door shut behind him, merely following his master out of habit. Then he could sense the anger and frustration coming from the older man. He knew to brace himself for the slap before it came, but it jerked his head to the side anyway. He didn’t respond.

“Do  _ not  _ make me regret this, Anakin,” Palpatine said, his voice somehow gentle and harsh at the same time. He gripped Anakin’s chin, and their eyes met. Anakin wanted to look down, but didn’t, meeting the sinister stare. Palpatine sighed. “Look what you’ve made me do, now. I suppose this is what I get, seeing potential in a slave boy, doing my best by him.”

His grip became gentler, his other hand cupping the side of Anakin’s face. The routine was the same, but effective. Anakin owed him so much - Palpatine had done so much for him. Guilt flooded him as he realized how disappointed his master really was. He should be more than this. The proposal had been an act of defiance on his part, but it had also been an impulsive one. He hadn’t thought out the consequences.

“I’m sorry, Master,” he said genuinely as the Chancellor moved his hands away.

“What’s done is done,” Palpatine waved one hand and shrugged, turning his back to Anakin and walking to his elaborate desk.. “It’s really that simple, Anakin. Just remember what I’ve taught you. Remember what we’ve built and what we are creating together. Remember the price of straying from the path I’ve set. Remember the consequences of failure.” He said that last word sharply enough that Anakin flinched. The word haunted him.

“Yes, Master. What more can I do?” he offered, sensing a need to be needed; to remain important so Palpatine wouldn’t cast him away as he’d done to others. He  _ knew _ there would be more punishment to come later. He’d done a grave misdeed, and his master never left those unpaid. The older man smiled gently as he turned back to Anakin, looking like a doting grandfather. It was a switch of personas that Anakin hadn’t been able to anticipate yet, but was training in himself.

“Oh, really, I shouldn’t ask it of you. I know you’re busy as it is, and I have no wish to cause you any strain, my dear boy.”

“Please, Master. I  _ want _ to help. I like helping,” Anakin insisted. Perhaps this would make his punishment more lax? No. But surely it would please his master. Palpatine let out a long sigh, sitting down in his chair and clasping his hands together, studying Anakin.

“Very well. I suppose it couldn’t hurt, if you’re that passionate about it,” he said, opening a drawer in his desk. He handed over a datapad, and Anakin walked forwards, taking it as Palpatine activated the power.

“What is this, Master?” he asked, as a slew of files began popping up. 

“Every single detail about the senator of Stewjon, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He has been peeking where he shouldn’t,” Palpatine clicked his tongue in irritation. “He took a leave of absence for almost a year, and has only just arrived back on Coruscant. I was disturbed to see him at the Senate today.”

“Has he - does he know about us, my master?” Anakin asked. 

“Not yet,” Palpatine said slowly. “Someone tipped him off. And Senator Kenobi is like a nexu after raw meat - he won’t stop until he finds his information and thoroughly consumes it. And that, my boy, is where you come in.” Palpatine paused, assessing him, and Anakin waited in silence. The way he said ‘my boy’ was full of a possessive tone that made Anakin more anxious. Anything that reminded him that he was still a slave did, and Palpatine knew it, using it to his advantage. To display power over his apprentice.

The elderly man smiled with satisfaction. “Befriend Kenobi. Make him trust you. Show him there’s more to you than the immaterial, that behind it you’re hiding something - your vulnerability. Kenobi is drawn to helping others. Only reach out a hand, and he will grasp it. And then we can drag him into the Void screaming for mercy.” Palpatine’s voice had steadily rose in volume and delight that by the end of his last sentence he was very nearly shouting. Anakin remained calm - he was used to such outbursts and dramatics.

“How do I approach him, Master?” he questioned.

“I will organize meeting. A committee I will personally ask him to join, an offer he won’t be able to resist. Helping others is quite his downfall, and when we plant the seeds that Stewjon is involved with our enemies, Obi-Wan will want to lead the investigation,” Palpatine smiled again, and Anakin nodded.

“It shall be as you say, Master,” he replied quietly. “I will bring down this Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“For now,” Palpatine said, that glint in his eye that made Anakin tense up, “we shall proceed with your training.” 

* * *

It was midday in Coruscant as Obi-Wan Kenobi leafed tirelessly through the old dusty volumes in the bowels of the public archives. Books like these were indeed rare - he was used to the silken, light feel of a datapad in his hands - but these were also ancient, only preserved by the archivists through careful anti-aging methods and the restriction of handling by citizens. Fortunately, Obi-Wan had clearance as a senator.

He’d been at it for hours now, digging up everything he could on the Sith, hoping he’d find something Senator Organa had missed. This was the information the datachip had given him, and it was less than he’d hoped for. He doubted he would find anything if Bail already reviewed it, but it was important enough for a second look. The galaxy was dependent on this information. 

Most of the texts were in different languages, from rural worlds cut off from the Republic or adverse to tech. A datapad with translation built in came in handy for that, though Obi-Wan didn’t have to bother for the older Mandolorian scripts. The warrior clans had kept surprisingly clear records, and Obi-Wan was fluent, thanks to Satine’s efforts. The now duchess certainly hadn’t been keen on seeing anyone who didn’t know her language. Obi-Wan had the basics down in a month. By the end of their relationship, he was fluent.

His hair fell down into his face and he peered down at the text. He drifted while trying to keep his eyes opened  but he couldn't quite manage it. He really  _ did  _ need to work on getting his sleeping schedule back on check - his hyperspace lag was terrible. 

He did become alert when he felt a presence, presumably someone trying to sneak up on him. His hand went slowly to the blaster he kept at his side - a small, unnoticeable one he carried hidden under his robes ever since he began this investigation.

Then someone cleared their throat. No sneaking up motives, then. Obi-Wan turned to see the last person he expected to be found in any archives. Anakin Skywalker looked down at him with a slight bemused expression, seemingly awkward.

“Obi-Wan,” he greeted him. 

Obi-Wan bristled at that and gritted his teeth. He didn’t have time for this, especially with the rudeness involved in Skywalker’s greeting. His name had rang out smooth and silken from Skywalker’s lips, making it sound more interesting than it actually was. 

He loathed it.

“ _ Senator _ Skywalker,” he replied with a curt nod, emphasizing the proper title. Skywalker grinned. He already loathed that too. An inner monologue suggested he was being too harsh. Another inner monologue ignored it. “Can I help you?” he asked, in a manner that suggested he’d like to do anything  _ but _ assist his fellow senator.

“The Chancellor is requesting an investigation team. You were nowhere to be found, so he sent me to give you the news.”

“What investigation team? I have my com with me, all that had to be done is-” Obi-Wan cut himself off as he pulled his com out of his pocket and found it to be dead. “Oh.”

“Yes, it seems there was a reason for that, after all,” Skywalker said cheekily. 

“What investigation team?” Obi-Wan repeated himself with a huff.

“Oh. You know. Separatists.”

“Separatists?”

“Separatists,” Skywalker nodded in agreement.

“What  _ about _ Separatists?” Obi-Wan clarified himself. He felt his ears burning in irritation.

“You know, the usual,” Skywalker said. Obi-Wan didn’t respond to the bait this time, instead staring at the young senator steadily until Skywalker was squirming in discomfort and a blush crossed his face. “For, uh, secret plans and stuff.”

“Secret plans and … stuff. How alarming. I’m considerably alarmed,” Obi-Wan echoed dryly. He thought he caught a flash of anger in Skywalker’s eyes, nearly a gleam of red contrasting the blue, but he must have been mistaken. Skywalker surprised him by sitting down on the chair beside him, uncomfortably close.

“Look, I’m just the messenger, and not a good one, apparently,” Skywalker snarked. “There’s something about Stewjon involved, that’s why the chancellor wanted you.”

“Stewjon? You must be joking. Stewjon is the last place anyone wants to go, least of all a prestigious a man as Count Doofu.”

“Count Dooku,” Skywalker corrected him. Obi-Wan waved it off. What did it matter what his name was? 

“It’s the perfect place. Fairly isolated, but close enough to Coruscant to be a threat,” Skywalker insisted. Obi-Wan frowned and rubbed at his beard in thought.

“I’ve other things at the moment. Pressing matters,” Obi-Wan said.

“What’s more pressing than Separatists kriffing up your planet?” Skywalker snorted.

“The fate of my breakfast I missed this morning,” Obi-Wan muttered in a dry joke. He was surprised when Skywalker laughed.

“Kenobi, please. I’ve missed much more than that over senate meetings. I’m still getting angry holovids from the twins I left to wake up alone in my bed this morning,” he said, with much more of a dramatic tone than was necessary. Obi-Wan gave him a disgusted look, and Skywalker rolled his eyes. Obi-Wan sensed sharp annoyance. He sighed.

“I need more details if I’m going to sign in on this.”

“More details than the people on your home planet being subjugated?” Skywalker asked.

“ _ What _ ?” Obi-Wan asked, turning fully to him.  _ That  _ had certainly gotten his attention. “Why didn’t you tell me that to begin with?” he asked, jaw clenching as he searched for his com before he remembered it was fucking dead and had the strong urge to slam a fist down on the table. He didn’t of course. The librarian looked like she could beat him up.

Skywalker shrugged. “Uh, I figured you’d heard,” he said, a bit too innocently for Obi-Wan’s tastes. This was all another damned political game to him.

“No, I hadn’t  _ heard _ . My com was dead!”

“Oh. Right,” Skywalker scratched at the side of his neck. In that posture, Obi-Wan noted that he looked rather out of place in his senator robes. He may have been more interested in that if he wasn’t worrying about his home planet, but at the moment, well, things were a bit fucking tense. He raised from his seat and gathered his things, ordering a librarian droid to please put the ancient books away before he even thought about Skywalker seeing them. Which he absolutely did, his eyes roving over to the pages before Obi-Wan could do anything without seeming suspicious or ridiculously eccentric.

“Side hobby?” Skywalker asked.

“My nephew has a fascination with ancient cultures,” Obi-Wan covered smoothly, Korkie in mind. He lowered his voice. “I promised I would get into the restricted senator section for him and perhaps … get some copies.”

“That’s illegal,” Skywalker said with delight.

“Which is why I’d appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut.” Obi-Wan was  _ not  _ pleased with owing Skywalker anything, but there didn’t appear to be a way to avoid it. To his complete annoyance, Skywalker gave him a salute.

“Yes, sir,” Skywalker said. The way he said it was so full of suggestion that Obi-Wan had to take a moment to process it before he scowled.

“Find someone else to test your poor seduction attempts on.”

“Yes … sir,” Skywalker breathed out. Obi-Wan inwardly groaned as he began to walk out of the archives, with Skywalker following along, rambling details about their first investigation team meeting. 

Obi-Wan had the feeling he should have stayed on vacation.


End file.
